


what's for lunch?

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, My First Work in This Fandom, My first RPF, One Shot, Short, Short One Shot, get it because jack is short haha i'm so funny, i'm so tired i'm sorry, it's literally just a how to: grilled cheese in disguise, some kiddos eat lunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's not every day a demon joins you for lunch, and it's even less often that the demon gets a homemade sandwich to eat.





	

"Hmm-hmmm-hmmmm..." Jack hums to himself absently as he makes himself a grilled cheese for today’s lunch.

He hasn’t had a sandwich in a _long_ time, and hearing vivid descriptions of a grilled cheese in the game he's just finished another episode of have made him hungry for one. First, the green-haired man preheats a skillet over medium heat. He butters one side of a bread slice, humming tunes from the soundtrack of that game he'd just played, and places the slice butter-side down onto the sizzling pan, adding another slice of cheese. The Irishman butters a second bread slice and places this one butter-side up onto the cheese.

As the sandwich grills, Anti comes to mind out of the blue. God, he hasn't made a video with Anti for so long, and the audience is anticipating them to put on another show together. Anti might be getting antsy too - in fact, what does Anti even  _do_ when he's not around? Does he sleep and eat like a normal person would?

Jack flips the sandwich over to some degree of clumsiness.

When the cheese is melted, he takes the sandwich off of the skillet, putting it onto the plate, and turns off the stove. This is when he hears a sudden noise.

 

A cackle.

 

The green-haired man glances up to see Anti, one leg crossed over the other sitting on the edge of the countertop. Due to the fact that for  _some reason_ Anti likes using Jack as a vessel, he notably resembles the latter. His fading green hair is matted, and his black-on-darker-black clothes are torn in some places, like some savage beast had sliced away at him. Anti's piercing ice-blue eyes flicker an abyssal black occasionally. He has gauges in his ears and there's dried blood smeared on his neck, the self-inflicted wound making Jack's own neck itch the more he looks at it.

"̸͎͖͔͈̺M͕̼͍̪̟̼̿ͧ͆ͪ͋͑͟ì̛̗̜̲̹̉ͣ͆S̬͍̻̿s̰͇̩̘̊͆̿̐͂ ̡̜͖̱͉̤ͤ͐ͪ̔ɯ̶̩̥̔́̍͌̎ǝ̤̞̰̙͉̹͖͌̾̽̋ͧ͐ͮ¿̥͆̆͛͋,̴̣͉,̥ͩͩ Though Anti's lips, pulled into a stiff grin revealing sharp fang-like teeth, move to mouth the words, the voice doesn't come from his lungs - rather, it seems to be a hiss coming from the ragged wings formed by smoke lazily drifting from behind the demon.

Jack stares at him. "Sure. There's food in your teeth," he adds before looking back to the grilled cheese sandwich.

Anti, taken aback, freezes and points to his teeth slowly. His head twitches violently, and his form flickers. He grips a wicked, jagged dagger and holds it beneath Jack's chin, forcing him to look back up. ,͛̽̎̇̚͟,ͧ̅̽͆̓͊̋p̧͙̳̪̟͒o̟̣̗͂͟u̟͉̩͈͓̓̑̋̃̓ͨ,̥̳̤̙̊ͅʇ̉̊ͯ̔ ̻̬q̣̻̤̞̱͖͋̃̄ͧͯ͢l͈̻͕̉̅͌̆i̼͖̯̹ͮ̕ṋ̠̹̗͇k̪̤͚̮̖̣͋̉͟,͈̠̈ͨ̾̒ͯ̏͡ͅ ̱̉͗̄̆͘ḋ̊ͥͮͯͮ̿o̫̥̖̱̬ͤͩͩ͗͑̀̚ũ̺͂ͬ͘,ͫ̂͜ʇ̺̟̦͎̥̆ͣ͜ ̛͉̖̦ͭͬͧ̂ͪͭl̛̳̖̱͕̫̜̲̿oͫ̆ͮ͟o̥̙̯̰̿͌̒̏̅̑ͫʞ̇̐ ̜̤͕̂ɐ̟̻̼̼͈̳͔̇ͥ͜ʍ̰ͮ̔̍ͫɐ̮̖̳ͯͭͨ̎̈́̓̚ʎ̢͚ͧ̍̌ͮ̒͐¡̈́̉ͫ̊̋ ̹̩̠͙̼͙̼̃̏̈Ԁ͍͖̠͖͈̾̽͑ͤͅɐ̭̥̒ͧ̈́͊ʎ̠̫̞̟̪ͤͬ̚ ̪̠̱̥̪̓̂ͮ͜ **∀̿̆͒͗┴̨̲̹̜͙̮ͧͧ͌̓┴͎̭̣̫͈̍͝Ǝ͑̐͌͌N͕ͮ̂ͣͨ┴̇̃ͥͩ͝I͓̩̭̺̟̓͒O̝̬͆ͮN̰͚̻̙͖̭͊̍͗̑ͪ̐¡̴̗̄ͭ̾** ,̬̗̼̉̂̏͜,̪̤͚̩̣̘͓̅̒̏̾ Anti - or the smoke, which had ceased for the moment Anti hesitated - screams.

The Irishman looks at Anti, and to the knife beneath his chin. "Do you want a grilled cheese?" Jack says calmly.

For a second time, Anti's confused. Jack offers up the grilled cheese sandwich he'd just made, as well as a bag of potato chips that crunches as he places it on top of the bread. The demon glares at it with fire in his eyes.

"˙̢̡͍̝͉̘̞̙̖̄͐ͨ̂̚˙̟͍̥̙̯̮͋̈́̓͌̔͆͡˙̴̟̹̭̬̆̂ͦ̃͑̌ͩʇ̛̣̺͖͚̮ͣͭͥ͊͝s̴̼̮͊̂ͬ̎̔ͭn̡̹͕̂ͩ̅̍̚ɹ̡̭̑̑ͨ͞ͅƆ͎̪͕̫̻̝̱̯͓̆̀͌͋͗̅͊̚" Anti hisses.

Jack stares at him blankly for a moment, before it clicks. He places the plate back onto the counter and, using a knife from the drawer, he cuts off the dark brown crust that frames the bread.

Anti snatches it hungrily, licking his lips. In a few seconds, the demon practically  _inhales_ the lunch. He lets out a low hiss in what Jack assumes to be satisfaction. He looks up and, with a wicked grin, Anti whispers, "Thank you," before disappearing in a puff of smoke. Though the demon is already gone, Jack whispers back, "You're welcome," before starting on making a second grilled cheese.


End file.
